


The Edge of Paradise

by SushiOwl



Series: Tumblr Commissions [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Caring Peter Hale, First Time, Good Peter Hale, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Stiles is twenty, Trans Male Character, Trans Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: It was a big night. They were going to have sex, real sex, not just rub against each other like teenagers. Well, that was what they were currently doing. Stiles loved it. He loved the feel of Peter's body weighing him down, keeping him still. He loved to touch his strong arms, his back, his thick neck. He couldn't get enough of Peter's warmth.Kissing was old hat. It was comfortable. They'd been doing this for months. Stiles was ready. He could tell Peter had always been ready because his boner was not easy to ignore when it was grinding into Stiles's pelvis. But Peter hadn't pushed. He'd waited until Stiles had wanted to talk about it.So they'd talked. They'd talked a lot, over many days. Peter had promised it would be good, but more importantly, he'd promised he would stop if Stiles didn't want to anymore, no matter how far they'd gotten.





	The Edge of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for my dear Twist, who wanted trans man Stiles and his first time with Peter.

It was a big night. They were going to have sex, real sex, not just rub against each other like teenagers. Well, that was what they were currently doing. Stiles loved it. He loved the feel of Peter's body weighing him down, keeping him still. He loved to touch his strong arms, his back, his thick neck. He couldn't get enough of Peter's warmth. 

Kissing was old hat. It was comfortable. They'd been doing this for months. Stiles was ready. He could tell Peter had always been ready because his boner was not easy to ignore when it was grinding into Stiles's pelvis. But Peter hadn't pushed. He'd waited until Stiles had wanted to talk about it.

So they'd talked. They'd talked a lot, over many days. Peter had promised it would be good, but more importantly, he'd promised he would stop if Stiles didn't want to anymore, no matter how far they'd gotten.

They hadn't gotten far yet that night. They were on the bed, kissing. Stiles was getting good at it. He measured his skills by how fast Peter started humping his leg. He gave Peter's tongue a suck, and Peter moaned into his mouth. The kiss broke, and Stiles put his head back to let Peter get at his neck. Peter  _ loved _ his neck. He had the series of hickeys to prove it.

When Peter rubbed his stubble along his collarbone and growled into the underside of his chin, Stiles let out a peal of laughter. God, Peter was ridiculous. His sense of humor was great, just as fucked up at Stiles's was.

Peter had amazing hands too, the way they moved along Stiles's arms, explored his thighs through his jeans, moved up his sides... and stopped completely dead for some reason. Peter drew back, and Stiles blinked up at him in confusion.

"You're wearing your binder," Peter said, thumb swiping back and forth along the hem where it rested below his ribcage. 

"Yeah," Stiles said, looking down at his flattened chest. "Of course. I wear it all the time."

"I know, but you should take it off for this," Peter said, and Stiles immediately tensed up in Peter's arms. 

_ What the fu-- _

"Shh, relax," Peter went on, taking his hands away from Stiles's sides and touching his face instead. "I want you to be able to pant and moan without worrying about damaging your lungs."

Stiles bit his lip, eyes still lowered.

"You're not supposed to wear it while you sleep, right?" Peter asked, leaning their foreheads together. "That's what all our research said."

Stiles snorted, remembering the hours and hours he spent sprawled across Peter's lap, looking at websites for binders. He'd finally found one he wanted. Peter had bought it for him, and Stiles had wept in a very manly fashion. "Yeah, that's what the research said. But I'll take it off before I fall asleep. I just--"

"No, Stiles, take it off now. After all, I plan to give you orgasms so earth shattering that you won't be able to move afterward." When Stiles made a tiny sound of complaint, Peter butted their foreheads together softly. "I'm not saying you have to take off your shirt. I won't touch your chest. I just want you to be able to breathe."

Stiles rolled his eyes, charmed to the core, and rolled off the bed to go into the bathroom. He wasn't ready for Peter to see him topless. Thankfully Peter hadn't asked to see his tits. Peter had, however, suggested paying for his top surgery. Stiles's brain tended to shut down for updates at the mere mention.

He closed the door and faced away from the mirror as he tugged off his baggy shirt. He wiggled out of his binder, looking at the ceiling. He tugged on his shirt again and left his binder by the sink.

When he went back into the bedroom, he was a bundle of twitchy nerves. He'd been in the mindset to get fucked, but that had been interrupted. Now he was worried that it was going to be weird, that it was going to hurt, or that it just wouldn't  _ work _ . 

Peter was waiting for him on the bed. His nostrils flared. "Well, you smell terrified."

Stiles huffed, stopping halfway between the bed and the bathroom. He rubbed the back of his neck rough enough to hurt. "Well, I'm just waiting for you to be disappointed."

Peter blinked then squinted. "About?"

"Me." Stiles bit his lip.

"Why would I be?"

Stiles shrugged, wishing he didn't feel close to tears already. "Because I'm not..." He gestured to his whole torso.

Peter hummed, lifting his chin before he beckoned Stiles closer. He lifted to his knees and took Stiles's hands in his. "Look, I will say this as many times as you need to hear it. Whatever it is you think you're not, you are." When Stiles dropped his eyes, Peter dipped down to look into them. "Okay?"

Stiles swallowed once, twice, then nodded. He sniffed loudly.

Peter pulled him in. "Come here, sweet boy. No tears. I don't find those sexy at all."

Stiles laughed, getting up onto the bed and crashing into Peter's front. This was good. He could do this. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. He squeezed his eyes shut. "God, if I could only turn off my brain."

"For once, I agree with you," Peter said, taking a handful of his hair and gently tilting his head back. Stiles groaned quietly at the tug on his scalp, goosebumps lifting along his arms. Peter's pupils seemed to expand at the noise. This he gave his best I-have-an-idea grin. "Would it help if I took charge? Told you what to do?"

Swallowing thickly, Stiles tried to get his voice to work, but all he could do was let out a tiny, needy whimper that sounded like, "Uh huh."

"Alright," Peter said, sitting them both up more. He took Stiles's chin and kissed him with intent. He licked Stiles's teeth, nipped his tongue, and seemed to suck all the oxygen from his body, replacing it with fire. It wasn't long until Stiles was moaning into motion of their lips, each swipe of their tongues. He gasped when Peter pulled back, looking at him with eyes just little too bright blue.

"Take off your pants," Peter said, his voice low and rumbly. 

Stiles sucked in a hard breath before he swallowed and nodded. He scooted back against the pillows, hands going down to the front of his jeans. He popped them open, revealing his Batman boxers. He hooked his thumbs on his pants and shimmied out of them, leaving his boxers on for now. He realized he still had his socks on, had a horrible vision of sweaty, stinky feet, and curled his toes. How did he take them off without looking like a total goober?

Peter seemed to sense his distress, grabbed the toes of his socks, making Stiles let out a little squeak, and tugged them off.  Peter rubbed his warm, broad hands over the tops of his feet and up his shins against the grain of his leg hair, then curled his fingers under his calves. "Now, Stiles, put those fingers to use," he said, pulling Stiles's legs apart. "Touch yourself."

Stiles flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, going to dip his fingers under the elastic band of his boxers.

"Ah, no, Stiles, on the outside of your shorts," Peter said, his asshole smirk firmly in place.

With a whimper, Stiles cupped his mound. "You're mean," he said, unable to hide his smile as Peter gave a low, smooth chuckle. Fuck, Stiles loved that sound. It made it easy for him to slide his fingers up and down along his folds. He already felt warm, his eyes unable to leave Peter's. When he pressed his middle fingers harder, he moaned at the spark of sensation.

Peter took in a slow, deep breath before he licked at the corner of his mouth. "I can smell you," he murmured, and Stiles's insides clenched in response. "It makes you hot having an audience, doesn't it?"

Stiles bit down on his lip to keep in the high-pitched groan that was sure to come out if he didn't. He nodded, fingertip circling hard under the hood of his mound. 

"Good to know," Peter said, the hand on Stiles's foot squeezing rhythmically. "Now show me your cock."

Gasping and spontaneously squeezing his thighs around his hand, Stiles had to count to ten to get his brain back in order so he could follow that instruction. No one had ever--but then no one had ever had the--he could barely think. His hands shook lightly as he slipped his boxers under his ass and down his legs. 

Peter gave him a helping hand by slipping them off his feet before he balled them up and shoved them under his nose, taking a deep whiff with his eyes fluttering closed. Stiles could only watch, mouth hanging part way open. Peter growled, opening glowing blue eyes, and gave Stiles a smile of slightly-sharper-then-normal teeth. "You smell incredible." He set the boxers in his lap before he nodded pointedly at Stiles's closed legs.

With a shiver, Stiles let his legs fall slowly apart. He glanced down. The curly black hair blanketing his mound was shiny with wetness, looking sticky. He caught his folds with his fingers and spread them, pulling them up and back to show off his cock. It was engorged, now standing at nearly an inch after three years of T. He liked it. Jacking off was getting much easier lately. He slowly lifted his eyes to see what Peter thought, a small niggling worry in the back of his mind.

But it was entirely unnecessary because Peter was looking at him like he was the most delectable creature on the face of the planet. His eyes had gone dark, just a thin ring of neon blue around the pupil. His gaze swept over Stiles's body three or four times before he managed to breathe out, "Beautiful," like he couldn't stop himself. He leaned forward, taking Stiles's lips in a kiss, before taking Stiles's hand and lifting it to his mouth. He drew each of Stiles's fingers between his lips, sucking them clean one by one and moaning. "Beautiful and delicious. I can't wait to suck you off," he said before he licked Stiles's palm.

"Holy shit," Stiles whimpered as Peter settled on his belly in between Stiles's legs, nuzzling at his furry happy trail. This was a thing that was happening. Stiles settled further against the pillows, looking away because he could not watch. But his eyes quickly flicked back, and he couldn't look away. 

Peter dragged his tongue, flat and broad, through his folds, and Stiles let out a sound that was somewhere between surprise and exhilaration. Damn, this was--oh god, Peter was lapping at his cock like a cat--that was--oh shit, he was swirling his tongue around it--oh. "Fuck!" Stiles gasped, his hands shooting to Peter's hair as his lips locked around Stiles's cock and sucked. 

So... This was his new favorite activity.

Peter's hands looped around his thighs and under his ass, squeezing and--were they urging him forward? Fuck, did Peter want him to--? Stiles flattened his feet against the bed and gave an experimental roll of his hips. Peter instantly gave a growl--and didn't that feel fantastic on his cock?--and pressed his fingers harder against Stiles's ass, urging him forward again. Panting, Stiles leaned back, putting his weight more on his shoulders and feet, and held Peter's head as he started to thrust against his mouth. Once he got the hang of it, it was a dizzying pleasure, stealing the breath from his lungs and heating him to burning from the inside out.

Stiles was actually glad he didn't have his binder on. He probably would have passed out by now.

Stiles's fingers raked through Peter's hair, messing it up and making him look as wild as he felt, growling and slurping at Stiles's cock with his fingers digging into his ass. Honestly, Peter wouldn't be surprised if Peter popped a claw or if his eyebrows suddenly disappeared. Peter had displayed unsteady restraint on his wolf when he was horny. It was pretty damn hot if Stiles was honest with himself. To think that he was the reason Peter went a little beastly sometimes.

His humping against Peter's face was getting less coordinated as pleasure gripped his spine and made his thighs quiver. Peter looked up his body, shifting one hand around and slipping a finger into his folds. He didn't go right for his leaking entrance, keeping his eyes up, watching for a denial. They'd talked about it extensively. Stiles was okay with fingering himself, but would he be okay with someone else's fingers? He had said he'd give it a try, and Peter said he would only do what Stiles was comfortable with. So Stiles nodded.

Peter's fingers slipped inside him easily, and he moaned at the feel of it. It felt strange, but not in a bad way, just that he didn't have direct control of it. But he certainly didn't complain when Peter twisted his hand palm up and nailed him right in the g-spot. In fact, he let out a cry and pulled Peter's head tighter against his pelvis. 

"Fuck, yeah, that--more of that!" he groaned, hardly able to keep a rhythm with his hips at all now. 

Peter complied, fucking him with his finger, and then two, all the while sucking his cock like he was getting paid for it. Stiles clawed at his head, losing his coordination at the same rate he was losing his mind. Oh fuck, he was going to come all over Peter's face. That thought made it happen even faster. 

He cried out, thighs clamping down on Peter's head as his hands fisted in and tugged his hair. He arched, shaking with it as he clenched, over and over, on Peter's fingers as they worked him through it. It took him a while to regain brain function, still twitching slightly, and when he did, Peter was gently tapping at his hip. "Oh, shit, sorry," he said, releasing Peter's head from the vice grip of his thighs.

Peter sucked in a few ragged breaths, then grinned and kissed Stiles's inner thigh. "Don't be," he said, sitting up and licking his lips. "It was hot." His face was wet, his facial hair shiny like Stiles's pubes. Stiles got a kind of primal satisfaction out of that, that he got to mark up Peter's face, even a little bit. 

Stiles smiled, dropping his eyes to where Peter was straining in his sweatpants. The tenting should have been comical, and it was, in a way, but Stiles wished he had that kind of reach for himself. "You seem to have a situation," he said, sweeping his eyes back up Peter's body. "Maybe you should take care of it."

Peter smiled, the tip of his tongue between his teeth--which was fucking adorable and something Peter only did for him. "As long as you're still okay with it, I would very much like to take care of it."

Stiles shivered, power rushing to his head. He could say no. He could make Peter jerk off in front of him, and he would. It was for that reason that he spread his legs again.

The smile that Peter gave him could only be described as feral. He twisted out of his sweatpants and tossed them away. Commando, of course. He leaned over, opening the drawer of the bedside table and pulling out a condom and some lube. Stiles stole a glance at the brands. They were the good kind. His eyes went back to Peter's face as he made a showing of catching the corner with his teeth and ripping it open slowly. He slipped out the circle of latex, tossing the foil away. 

Watching him sheathe his cock was a surreal experience. He wasn't sure how that would feel inside him, but if it was anything like Peter's fingers, it would make him see God. He let out a little giggle as Peter popped the cap of the lube, smiling, and upturned it to let the contents ooze over his dick. Stiles covered his face with his hand, watching through his fingers as Peter spread the lube over his cock. This son of a bitch. Stiles liked him way too much.

Peter wiped his hand on his discarded sweats before he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles and kiss him. Fuck, was that what he tasted like? He tasted good, even better smeared over Peter's mouth, which tasted amazing already. Peter's cock slipped and slid in the crease of his pelvis, so Stiles wrapped his legs around Peter's hips in what he thought was a helpful way. Peter tried to reach around his leg to aim his cock, but it wasn't a good angle. Stiles snorted out a laugh against Peter's mouth and lifted his leg higher so Peter could get under it, grab his dick and press it against his hole.

Peter went slow, kissing him  as he slipped inside.

It was not a feeling he knew how to describe. Suffice to say, he was glad that Peter added more lube, because he was thick, and it was a stretch. It wasn't painful, because he was relaxed and fucked out enough already to be loose. But still, Peter seemed to fill him to the brim, and it was... he didn't know what it was. His brain wasn't processing very well. All he could do was feel.

He didn't realize he was trembling until Peter started murmuring in his ear. "I've got you, Stiles," he was saying, his hand sliding up and down Stiles's thigh. "I've got you. Breathe for me, okay?"

Stiles sucked in a breath, trying to get that involuntary function to do its thing. He hated when he thought about it, and his brain just lets him take over. It was too much responsibility for him, especially when he had a dick inside him. But Peter waited until he relaxed that last bit, waited until he sagged against the pillows and hooked his ankles over one another behind Peter's ass. That was when he started to move.

It was a slow, but it wasn't the kind of patronizing slow that came with the words  _ I'll be gentle _ . Instead, it was the kind of slow that resembled the coming and going of a tide. Powerful, unstoppable, serene. Stiles set his open mouth against Peter's shoulder, teeth resting on his skin as he slid his hands around to hold his back. The way Peter's muscles moved further confirmed Stiles's thoughts. Peter was a force of nature, and he was only just holding back the storm under his skin.

"More," Stiles whispered, barely audible.

Peter heard him and shifted with a soft growl. He gently pulled out, drawing a noise of protest from Stiles. This was the opposite of more! But Peter hushed him with a kiss and grabbed a pillow. He got a hand under the small of Stiles's back, folded the pillow in half and stuffed it under his hips. Stiles was starting to get the picture when Peter slid back into him, before dropping onto one elbow above him. He pressed a hard kiss to Stiles's mouth, and Stiles cried out into it as Peter's other hand found his cock.

He stroked his thumb over it in time with the pumping of his hips. His cock slid in and out of Stiles, pushing a sound from his lungs every time. Stiles grabbed at Peter, his hands scrabbling for purchase at his shoulder blades, head thrown back as his noises grew louder, more insistent. And yeah, they were high, but for once, he didn't give even the slightest fuck. All he cared about was Peter's mouth on gnawing at his collarbone and the way his dick made his body sing.

"Peter, Peter," he found himself chanting as tension started to work up his legs.

"Like that, baby boy?" Peter growled back, eyes gleaming down at Stiles. "Huh?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Stiles cried out, digging his nails into Peter's shoulders and raking them down.

Peter grunted, slamming forward harder and ripping a cry from Stiles's throat. "My good boy, my Stiles." He dropped his head again and mouthed at Stiles's throat, his thumb rubbing in brutal, wonderful circles over Stiles's cock.

"P-Peter, ahn!" Stiles screamed, latching onto Peter and dragging him down onto him completely as he twitched and clenched and gasped. He hoped the whiting out at the edges of his vision was just the pleasure, not a stroke. He could barely breathe. He hadn't thought it was possible for him to have an orgasm more powerful than the one before. Color him surprised. And tingly. He couldn't feel his toes.

Rocking gently, Peter helped him through it, made the pleasure filter out slow until Stiles was sated enough to relax against the bed, his limbs dropping wherever they wanted. Stiles managed to focus enough to look up at Peter. He could see the wolf just below the surface, the way he was holding back, not wanting to take any more than he was given.

Stiles knew it wasn't a rational realization to come to during sex, but he thought he might have loved Peter. He'd have to think about when his brain was floating peacefully in a pool of reward chemicals.

"Here," he managed, putting his hand on Peter's chest and pushing him back enough that he slipped out. He grabbed the pillow and pulled it out from under his hips before he caught Peter's dick in his hands. Peter let out a little noise as he rolled off the condom. "You didn't let me look earlier," he muttered, getting an eyeful now. Peter's dick was truly a wonder. Thick and uncut, beautiful like the rest of him. He glanced up at Peter's face and could practically see his ego written all over it. He snorted. "Shut up."

"I didn't say a wo-nngh!" Peter rocked his hips forward as Stiles gave him a stroke, smiling like the shit he was. 

He hadn't jacked off someone before, but he knew from watching a lot of porn and research on foreskin just how to make Peter putty in his hands. He used both because he had to, squeezing him at the base with every upstroke. He swiped his thumb in the slit, gathering up the precome, and spreading it down. He watched Peter's face, biting his lip with determination. He wanted to see Peter come, wanted to see what he looked like in the throes of passion, as it were.

Peter was poised over him, hips twitching forward and back, with his hands on either side of Stiles's shoulders. He was open mouth panting, his eyes glazed over and dark. There was the tell-tale sound of ripping fabric as Peter curled the sheets in his fists. 

"C'mon, Peter," Stiles crooned up at him. "Come for me. Come  _ on _ me. I want it." Yeah, he was a manipulative little bastard.

But it worked. Peter let out a surprised groan that ended in a laugh, jerking forward and coming all over Stiles's fingers and his belly. Gross, but awesome. Stiles stroked him with one hand until his dick stopped twitching and he pulled back, collapsing gracefully by Stiles's side. Looking over his body, Stiles toyed with the come in his happy trail, absently making swirly patterns.

"I want one," he said suddenly.

"One of what?" Peter sighed back, one arm thrown over his eyes.

"One of these!" Stiles said, reaching down to abruptly palm Peter's dick. The howl of surprise Peter let out what be something Stiles would cherish in his mind for the rest of his life.

Laughing, Peter grabbed Stiles's hand and lifted it to kiss his knuckles. "We'll get you one."

Stiles snorted, watching him with a sickening level of affection settling in his chest. "I already have a packer, Peter."

"I know," Peter said, nuzzling Stiles's fingers. "We'll get you a strap-on and a nice realistic dildo."

Stiles squeezes Peter's nostrils closed until he snorted. "What would I even do with that?"

"I volunteer as tribute," Peter said, lifting a brow and catching Stiles's index finger between his teeth.

Too surprised to appreciate the reference, Stiles stared at Peter, wide-eyed. "You'd bottom for me?" he asked. When Peter fluttered his eyelashes at him, Stiles laughed and tackled him, wrapping his arms around his head, their legs tangled together. "You'd really bottom for me?"

Peter stayed spread out like a cat sunning itself. "Of course. Who wouldn't for a man like you?"

Surging forward, Stiles kissed him, peppering kisses along his mouth and cheeks as Peter laughed in delight. Stiles reached out blindly, searching the bed and came back with the lube, holding it up so Peter could see it. "Care to practice?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Jesus, give a guy like ten minutes," Peter said, sounding like he was making an effort at sounding put out. "Some of us need a little downtime!"

Stiles grinned hard enough to break his face and nuzzled at Peter's throat. "That's not a noooo."

"No, it's not," Peter said with a shrug. Then his hands flew to Stiles's sides, dancing over his ribs. "You just want to try everything tonight, don't you?"

Stiles gave some kind of horrible donkey laugh, wriggling on top of Peter and failing to get up the coordination to actually move away. "Stop! Stop!"

"Make me, baby boy!" Peter said, giving Stiles a little pinch on the side.

So, apparently, that was Stiles's can-can dance button. He shrieked and nailed Peter right in the nads with his knee, which moved entirely on its own. Peter gave a horrible wheeze, and Stiles covered his mouth with one hand, petting him with the other. "I'm so sorry!" he tried to say, barely stifling his giggles. Well, it  _ was _ funny.

Peter forgave him later because Stiles was very good at following directions when it came to kissing it better.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry. Stiles did eventually go pee to avoid possible UTIs.
> 
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr! [Tumblr](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com) and [Writing Tumblr](https://thesushiowlwrites.tumblr.com)


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